


Adjustment

by TheNerdRevolution



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Series
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-09 00:40:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8869102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNerdRevolution/pseuds/TheNerdRevolution
Summary: The thief opened his eyes, knowing he had but a few moments to adjust, to read, to think, to become.The beginning of Yami Bakura.





	

The thief opened his eyes, knowing he had but a few moments to adjust, to read, to think, to become.

He clenched his fists, finding how to use this pair of hands. Long fingers, short nails. Often known as the hands of an artist. An outsider. Beauty was not the consideration. But the skin was soft, so not a labourer. Hm, that he could work with.

His tongue flicked across his teeth inside his mouth, feeling the smooth enamel, excluding a tiny chip in one of the incisors. Seemed old, though. More likely a fall than a fight. Perhaps this boy was a coward, then. He couldn't feel resistance in the body, either. He bit down on his tongue, not to hard, but enough to incite pain and a little blood. Sweetness soaked into his tastebuds. Ah, very much alive. He did prefer that in a host.

He moved his head to the side a little, feeling hair slide across his back, just below his shoulders. Long, he thought, and well cared for, going by the way it slipped across the cheap fabric of whatever clothing he was wearing. 

He squeezed his stomach, feeling the shape of his torso, and finding it be not to his liking at all. Skinny and scrawny. Useless for running, better for hiding. He would adapt. That's what a thief did.

And then, tensing muscles all over his body, testing them, he began to infiltrate the mind of his new host. Memories washed over him, some vague and distant, but some clear- a car crash. Fire. Death. Loss of family. His mind appeared to stutter for a moment, as though his own memory recalled something, but he had squashed the feeling before it truly made a home in his consciousness. Then names started to come to him. Sato Yuma. Friend. Bakura Amane. Closer, but distant too. Yamamoto Minako. Closer not just, not just in relationship but in proximity...

"Ryo-chan?" A lighthearted call sparked him back into life. Had he taken too long? He'd never made this mistake before. A flurry of language suddenly reached his ears once more, and he used his host's brain to translate. "Anata wa subete no kenri o kanjimasu ka?" Do you feel alright?

Japan, the thief realised. The customs began to form in his mind. Politeness, disgustingly, was something he would have to learn if he were not to raise suspicion. 

"Hai," the thief responded quickly, letting the vocal chords he now possessed translate his words into this strange amalgamation of sounds. As he focused on the boy, surely Yamamoto-kun, he felt a little spark in the mind fusing with his own and held in a smirk. Somebody had a crush. And they didn't want him to mess this up for him. 

"Are you sure?" Yamamoto-kun asked, eyes caring and sweet. It sickened him, and so he stood up, deciding an exit might help him keep his stomach in check. 

"I'll see you later, Minako-chan," he managed to get out, the honorific uncomfortable on his tongue, familiarising himself with walking in this slight form. As his mind filled with ways he could dispose of the obstacle he had just left in the dining hall, he began to hear shouts of protest inside his skull, and realised.

In all of his hosts, no matter how docile they seemed, they had a button to be pressed, to be crushed to ensure that their mind was the thief's and the thief's alone. And this fool? Friendship. Love. His care of others made him pathetic and weak, no matter how strong the cries of defiance invading his mental processes.

He finally allowed the smirk to overcome his features. This wouldn't take long.


End file.
